


Drown Him in Sweet and Fluffy

by valarmorghulisbitch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, OOC Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:02:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valarmorghulisbitch/pseuds/valarmorghulisbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock loses a little bet to the only consulting criminal in the world and is forced to spend a week indulging in the most excruciatingly adorable activities Jim can think of.</p><p>Late night prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drown Him in Sweet and Fluffy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doctorwhoatsonandsherlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorwhoatsonandsherlock/gifts).



Sherlock inhaled deeply as he eased open the door to his flat. Now began the fifth day of the most elaborate torture the criminal mastermind Jim Moriarty had inflicted upon another human being to date.

As soon as the detective shut the door softly behind him – praying that perhaps it was his lucky day and Jim was not yet home – Moriarty waltzed out of the living room with a huge grin on his face holding out a large glass bowl filled with perfectly folded squares of pink paper (pink, for God’s sake). The thought that Jim had as many “cute” ideas as there were little pink squares in that bowl made Sherlock shudder.

“You know the drill, Sherlylocks,” Jim sang offering the bowl to Sherlock. Sherlock frowned, said another prayer to the first deity that came to mind, and grabbed the first piece of paper his hand touched. The first time Sherlock and Jim performed this ritual, Sherlock attempted to calculate possible outcomes based on the approximate weight of the paper and the indents Jim’s careful handwriting left on it…and utterly failed. That Monday, Jim had the pleasure of dragging Sherlock down to the ice cream parlor and basically force-feeding him the triple chocolate sundae while giggling uncontrollably.

Sherlock reminded himself once again to never, ever, ever, ever make another bet with his boyfriend (Jim had been adamant that Sherlock call him “boyfriend” the whole week) as he unfolded the smooth paper. Jim was practically jumping up and down as he watched Sherlock’s expression go from slightly annoyed to visibly horrified and somewhat embarrassed.

“Well?” He demanded struggling to get a better look at the pink note.

“Romantic comedies,” Sherlock almost gagged on the words.

“You always pick the best ones, dear,” Jim mused with the most satisfied smile Sherlock had ever seen. The smaller man grabbed his hand and led him into the living room. It seemed the bastard always knew what form of torture Sherlock was going to pick before he did – in fact, the detective suspected Jim was cheating, but something compelled him to let it go.

“I’m feeling especially generous today, Sherlock,” Moriarty purred as he pulled out a huge box of DVDs from under the couch. “So I’ll let you pick.” While Sherlock went digging through the pile of sweet and fluffy, Jim rushed to the kitchen and returned with two steaming mugs of tea.

“You know, this is one of the better ones,” the criminal informed him when Sherlock cringed at the stack of Bridget Jones’s Diary: Complete Edition. “You could be on your way to purchase a small kitten right now.”

“A kitten?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “You know, I would just stage experiments on the poor thing.”

“Poor thing?” Jim repeated mimicking Sherlock’s tone. “Did I finally drown you in adorableness, Sherlock? Are you truly expressing empathy for another living creature?”

With an exasperated sigh, Sherlock handed Jim a copy of Love Actually (the least cheesy alternative) and settled on the couch while Moriarty messed with the DVD player. The screen lit up, Jim rested his head on the taller man’s shoulder, and Sherlock prepared himself for an hour and half of exaggerated feelings and bad one-liners.

“You’ll like the one tomorrow, I promise,” Jim whispered in his ear.

“I thought it was supposed to be a random selection process,” Sherlock allowed himself a small smile, trying to ignore the movie’s narrator and focus instead on Jim’s breath tickling the side of his neck.

“Well…” Jim giggled softly. “If you want it to be…but I think you’d rather go dancing as I planned, wouldn’t you now, dear?”

“Dancing?” Sherlock repeated, shocked.

“Uh-huh,” Jim nodded allowing his hand to play with Sherlock’s curls. The detective turned his face to the screen in an attempt to hide the grin spreading across his face. Who would have thought that Jim’s week of fluffy torture could turn into something Sherlock would truly enjoy?


End file.
